


Communication

by phoenixjustice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post Reichenbach Falls, spoilers up to Reichenbach Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He starts. He looks. John was staring at him. A million things run through his mind, a million scenarios, of what to do, of what he was going to do if this ever happened. He does the sensible thing. He runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissKM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKM/gifts).



Communication  
By: PhoenixJustice  
  
Disclaimer: Sherlock is property of the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I only own this story and make no profit from this.  
Warning: Rated T for language, slash, etc.  
Pairing: Sherlock/John, mentions of John/Mary, Lestrade/Mycroft, Sebastian/Moriarty if you squint.  
Setting: Post-Reichenbach Falls, spoilers for up to that point.  
Summary: He starts. He looks. _John was staring at him._ A million things run through his mind, a million scenarios, of what to do, of what he was going to do if this ever happened. He does the sensible thing. He runs.  
  
Dedicated to NatsMiniMe/MissKM: Happy birthday, hon! <3 you! <3  
: :: : : :: :  
He couldn't help himself. He knew it was foolish to follow him around like this. Even he would eventually become suspicious. He had stayed away for all this time to protect him, to see things through. He couldn't falter now.  
  
But...  
  
...he found that he missed him. Greatly. It affected his mental processes and he disliked that. But he found that he disliked being away from the one person who had ever truly called him 'friend' and whom he found himself calling 'friend.'  
  
He found himself at a diner.  
  
It was starting to get a bit colder, so he was glad he decided to wear the extra clothing. It was a diner he had been to infrequently over the years, dealing with cases, eating when he remembered or when he finally decided to eat. It got in the way sometimes, eating, but it was of course a necessary thing. John however, was much different. He seemed to enjoying eating. Sherlock could easily pull a picture from his mental palace of John licking his lips over a good piece of meat, closing his eyes after taking a bite from what seemed like a particularly good sandwich, his throat working when he...  
  
Hmm. He seemed to be getting distracted again. It was a bit disconcerting. He had come to see John, to hopefully get enough of a picture to let him go back to finishing up the case. Things hadn't been as clear cut as it had first appeared. By all appearances Jim Moriarty had seemingly been dead. But with a note from a Sebastian Moran, it had quickly become clear that it had been a ruse. Another mystery for Sherlock to go and solve, but a dangerous mystery. One he had been taking great pains for many months to keep John out of the loop of. He had done many a thing, many he didn't want to, to keep him safe, to keep Moran and Moriarty away from even the smallest thought of John Watson.   
  
And so John had been safe. He had watched from afar as John stopped seeing anyone. Months went by that way, and then he started to see a lady frequent John's temporary doorstep. Temporary of course, because as soon as Sherlock came back into the world officially, John would of course be coming back to 221 B. He could convince him, if necessary. It wasn't a difficult thing for him to accomplish.  
  
He watched that lady get close to John. To see him start to smile and laugh more.  
  
He didn't want John to suffer any more than he already had. He had appeared quite distraught and unhappy at his 'funeral.' He remembers frowning at seeing the glistening of tears in John's eyes. But he also didn't like this woman around John. John was his friend. John was his. No one else had ever been as enthusiastic as him in his cases, no one had ever truly talked to him. More than that, he was someone whom Sherlock actually _wanted_ to talk to. Whom he didn't find a waste of space. If anyone wasn't a waste of space, it was John Watson. He was...  
  
" _Sherlock?!"_  
  
He starts. He looks. _John was staring at him._  
  
A million things run through his mind, a million scenarios, of what to do, of what he was going to do if this ever happened. He does the sensible thing.  
  
He runs.  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _That was you, wasn't it? Please tell me it was. I won't even yell, I promise. Just. Just talk to me Sherlock. Please. - JW._  
  
He puts his phone in his pocket. That was the fifteenth message since last night. Last night had been the first of many messages he had in awhile. Mycroft had forwarded them to him to his new phone. He remembers Mycroft telling him how John had been trying to get ahold of him nonstop. How he had begged, when he finally managed to track Mycroft down, to tell him about Sherlock. Anything about Sherlock. And Mycroft, being as crafty as he was, lied. He lied without blinking. Left John in that despair, let him wallow and think that Sherlock was dead. He's dead, dear boy. Mycroft would say. You attended his funeral, remember? Saw his body?  
  
Sherlock knew it was necessary, to keep John in the dark for his own protection, but he still hated his brother for it.  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _I'm getting married. She's a lovely woman. Her name is Mary. I know you aren't the most sociable creature, Sherlock but even if you never see me again after this. Even if you hate me somehow. Let me see you, just this once. Just once and more and I--I won't bother you again. Please, Sherlock. - JW_  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _I hear people say it's a strange thing, when getting married. To be worried about another person, their well being, looking after them, caring about them. But I took to it like a duck to water. I guess it helped that I had you to look after you, didn't I? I won't ask again. But remember that I'm here if you ever want to talk. Or even...nevermind. - JW._  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _We lost the baby. Didn't even tell you she was pregnant, did I? I'm not sure how I feel about it. I didn't ever think about being a dad, but I was willing to try. Honestly...I think I'm relieved. I feel I'm a much better uncle to my sister and her wife's kid. I can be there sometimes but don't have to be there 24/7. I think that's a little too taxing. I'd say I wonder what Mycroft being a dad was like, but considering he's with Lestrade, I don't see either one of them having a child now do you? It was taxing enough always chasing after you, with you, on some new adventure. But I always had fun. You showed me things I never expected to see. Some weren't what I expected but being with you was...an experience, that's for sure. - JW_  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _"We're splitting up. I suppose it was inevitable. Things hadn't been the same between us since the loss of the baby. No...no it was before then. She said that quite clearly last night. Said I always talked about you too much, never gave her the time she needed. Maybe that's true. But, how could I ever forget you? You were this--this fire in a world that had become totally dark for me. You pulled me out of that darkness, corny as it sounds. But it's true. For that time we had together, I am forever grateful. I realize how much I took for granted with you, how much we both did. How much I... - JW_  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
 _He's...he's really gone, isn't he, Mycroft? Must have just been seeing things that night. It's not like it would be the first time. The first few weeks I saw him everywhere, looked for him in every person I walked past. I'm sorry I keep bothering you. But I can't believe he's really gone. He's your brother and I know, for all your differences, that you love him. But I love him. It may have took me too long to see it. Way too late. But I do. I'd give anything in the world to see him again. - JW._  
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
  
 _Come home._  
  
 _I'm sure Mrs. Hudson could use the company._   
  
: :: : : :: : : :: :  
"Mycroft? Mrs. Hudson?"  
  
She wasn't in her flat and the door was unlocked to 221 B so he assumed she was in there. He hadn't been back in a long time. He had gotten an apartment shortly after Sherlock's funeral. He couldn't stand living in the flat without him. Even so, even after all his time, his apartment still never held that sense of _home_ that this place had. Surprisingly, it still felt that way.  
  
He wanders into the kitchen. It was clean. Not like he was used to seeing. He was used to all sorts of weird odds and ends all over the place for one of Sherlock's many experiments. It didn't bother him, not really. He may have griped over things sometimes but it didn't really bother him.   
  
He startles as a pair of arms grab him suddenly.  
  
"What--"  
  
"Stay still." says a voice behind him. "Don't move. _Please_."  
  
He shakes his head. He wanted to turn around, but he didn't know what the situation was. He wasn't about to make a move until he was sure he could. The person could have a gun, a knife. But there was something off about this situation. Something about that voice...  
  
He tries to stay as still as he can but still jumps a bit as the person moves closer. The arms wrap slowly around him and he stills, eyes wide. He knew that smell. He had smelt it so many times from a scarf that a genius he once knew was attached to.  
  
"John."  
  
He closes his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
The arms pull him to their chest, pull him closer. He could hear the quick heartbeat of the chest behind him. He grabs ahold of the arms and holds them tight.  
  
"I never meant to hurt you. But I had to do it. I had to protect you."  
  
The face of the man moves closer to his, his breath against his cheek and he shivers.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
" _Sherlock_." he chokes, tears starting to fall freely down his face now.  
  
" _John_." says the voice of the man most certainly not dead.  
  
He gets turned around and finds himself looking into the beautiful eyes of the only consulting detective.  
  
"John. _John_." Sherlock's hands run over his face, wiping his tears, eyes looking at him in wonder. "Love. So this feeling is what love is. I never knew. I thought it was just friendship. I had never known a real friend, so I thought..." he trails off. His hands move to the sides of John's face, a question in his face. "May I?"  
  
"Yes. Yes. God, yes, please."  
  
Sherlock kisses John and all that anger, that heartache, that jealousy, that sadness, everything, faded away as if it had never been there.  
  
"I love you. I love you." Sherlock repeats. "I'm new at this. So I may have to say it many times to see how you react. Is that alright?"  
  
John laughs. "Yes, yes that's alright."  
  
Sherlock was Sherlock, after all.


End file.
